A steady pounding woke Slash from a sound sleep, knifing through his dreams with the dull insistence of a headache. At first, he thought that�s what it was; he�d had a hell of a lot to drink last night, and it wouldn�t be the first time he�d woken up to the pounding of his own head. He stirred slightly, lifting his head and wincing at the crusty feeling there at the corner of his mouth. A quick check to make sure it wasn�t vomit, and then he rolled over, looking to see who he�d fallen in bed with the night before.
Duff�s angelic face met his eyes, and he sighed softly. Of all the people he knew, and would ever know, Duff was the one he most liked to wake up to in the morning. He didn�t pretend it was for any sentimental reason, although he did love Duff just a bit more than he should have. Rather, Duff demanded so little and gave so much that it was a relief to roll over and see him, particularly on a hangover morning.
The moment of near domestic bliss lasted only a second. The pounding at the door had neither picked up pace nor abated any, and it was beginning to annoy Slash. What kind of person had that sort of single-mindedness at � he checked the clock � one in the afternoon? Grumbling, he nudged Duff awake.
�Go answer the door, man,� he ordered, slithering back under the sheets. There was a baffled silence from the other side of the bed, then Duff�s sleep-fogged brown eyes were blinking owlishly at him.
�Wha? Who is it?� Duff mumbled. His long limbs stretched out, nudging against Slash, warm with sleep. Slash almost felt bad about ordering him out of bed. �Make �em go away��
�I don�t know who it is,� Slash answered, vaguely irritated. �Go answer anyway, so they�ll quit knocking.� Duff was quiet for a moment, puzzling this out. He wasn�t very quick on the uptake in the morning, and particularly not the morning after a night in which he�d killed a fifth and a half of vodka, among other things.
�You heard it first,� he said finally, an air of finality about his voice. Slash scowled.
�Rock Paper Scissors.� Duff mulled the offer over, then nodded. �Count of three.� Both men held their hands out, balled into fists, and pounded them against the air as Slash counted. �One, two, three!�
Duff looked despairingly at his flat hand while Slash made scissoring motions with two callused fingers. �Best two out of three?� he asked hopefully, but Slash shook his head and burrowed into a little ball. Groaning, Duff heaved himself out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans slung over the back of a chair. He held them up a moment, then tugged them on. They were his, or near enough. With a petulant scowl on his face, he crossed the floor.
Slash heard the door swing open, heard Duff mumbling something, and then all hell broke loose. There was a shriek of surprise from Duff, though surprise quickly gave way to fear. Slash sat bolt upright in bed, but his view was blocked; Duff had thoughtfully shut the door to the bedroom before going to answer the pounding. All he heard as he crossed the room, stark naked and scared out of his mind, was a brief scuffle, another cry from Duff, and then a soft whistling noise.
He opened the bedroom door just as the body of his favorite guitar crashed into the head of one of the hotel�s bellhops, sending the man sprawling. �Duff!� he yelped, darting out of the room, arms outstretched. �Dude, what the fuck are you��
He was too late again. Duff reared back and slammed the guitar into the man�s skull two more times as his body twitched spasmodically on the floor. The third time, there was a dull, wet crack and brains splattered the wall. Slash could only stare, open-mouthed and helpless, as Duff fell back sobbing, the guitar falling from now slack fingers.
�Michael,� he breathed. His eyes didn�t leave the body, couldn�t leave the body. He�d never actually seen a dead guy before, never imagined that human brains looked quite like� that. And his guitar! God, his favorite fucking guitar had gore all over it. �What the fuck did you just do?�
�Shut the door!� Duff ordered, gesturing. Slash tore his gaze away from the corpse and focused on Duff. He was shaking, staring at the dead man with a glazed look in his eyes. For a moment, without knowing why, Slash was disturbed by the expression on Duff�s face. As he moved to shut the door, the reason occurred to him. There was no remorse there.
Slowly, he turned back to Duff and leaned heavily against the door. The smell of blood was heavy in the room, sharp and pungent and nearly enough to turn Slash�s stomach. He wished he could run screaming. In fact, he wasn�t sure why he hadn�t done it already.
�Michael,� he murmured. The sound of his name seemed to snap Duff out of whatever little fugue state he�d entered, and he looked up. �You just killed a guy.� It wasn�t what he�d intended to say, just the first thing that came out of his mouth. Duff looked at him dully for a moment then shrugged.
�Guess I did,� he answered. There was a long pause while Duff�s mouth worked helplessly, searching for words. Slash was, for once, patient. �I� think he might have been crazy�� Slash waited for more and, when none came, he slowly crossed the room to sit next to Duff. The bloody carpet squelched under his bare feet and he choked back bile.
�Why do you say that, babe?� he asked, voice pitched low and soothing. Beside him, Duff trembled, a fine shaking that had seized every muscle. Slowly, Slash draped an arm across his shoulders. �What happened?�
�I� I opened the door,� Duff said. There was a glazed blankness to his face that Slash recognized as shock. Maybe he�d been wrong about Duff not feeling remorse. Hell, of course he�d been wrong! Duff caught flies and set them loose outside. No way would he kill a person in cold blood and not feel anything. �I asked him what he wanted and he� he kinda moaned.�
�He moaned,� Slash stated flatly, glancing at the dead bellhop. Duff made a soft, confused little mewling noise and shook his head.
�Not like you�re thinking,� he protested. His eyes flickered across the corpse and he shuddered, pressing tight against Slash�s compact body. �Not like a sexy moan. More like� I don�t know. It was the most awful thing I�ve ever heard in my life.� Slash was tempted to make a joke about Steven and singing in the shower, but the look on Duff�s face forbade frivolous topics. �And then� he tried to bite me��
�He what?� Slash glared at the corpse and resisted the urge to poke it with his toe. In his hungover, poorly rested, and unnerved state, he almost thought that death was an appropriate punishment for attempted biting.
Duff nodded and turned, finally, to look at Slash. The utter pathetic confusion in his friend�s eyes broke Slash�s heart, and he pulled Duff close, pressing the bassist�s head down to rest against his shoulder. Duff accepted the comfort with a soft, ragged sob. �B-bit me,� he stuttered, fingers curling into claws against Slash�s chest. �Tried to, anyway. He� opened his mouth and made that horrible noise and��
Slash frowned. This was all starting to sound disturbingly familiar, but he couldn�t quite put his finger on why. For some reason, he recalled a female reporter�s voice reading about a recent outbreak of a particularly virulent flu, but that had nothing to do with the dead man on his floor. The flu didn�t make people go around trying to bite chunks out of rock stars. Bite chunks�?
�Saul, can we go find the guys? I�m� worried about them.� Duff whispered, another little shiver wracking his body. Slash knew full well what Duff wanted. Somehow, in the midst of all the contract signing and record making and touring, Izzy had been appointed The Rational One. They�d all come to the conclusion independently of each other, and Izzy shouldered the responsibility with his usual sly silence.
That was what Duff was after. He didn�t want to make sure the guys were okay, or to get them to help him cover up the murder. He wanted to sit down and spill his guts to Izzy and draw comfort from Izzy�s deadpan handling of the situation. Slash didn�t blame him one bit.
�Yeah, man. Yeah, we�ll go�� Slash rose unsteadily, offering Duff a faint, unconvincing smile. �We�ll just� lock the door. Lemme...� Fingers flexing, he padded back into the bedroom and yanked on a pair of jeans and an old, soft t-shirt. Duff was waiting patiently in the living room, eyes fixed on some distant point. His legs trembled a little and Slash slipped an arm around his waist, guiding him carefully around the carnage. �C�mon, babe, don�t look at the floor. They�re only two doors down, you can make it.�
The hallway was quiet, almost eerily so, and Slash was again struck by the nagging feeling that he knew what was going on. This all seemed so fucking familiar, but not in a d�j� vu sense. It was more that he had seen this before, somewhere, without being involved in it.
Duff clung tight to his shoulders, whimpering with each step. It seemed like every movement caused the tall bassist pain, like he was a dog limping along on a broken leg. Ordinarily, Slash would have allowed Duff a slow pace. It was second nature to coddle Duff, but something about the atmosphere of the hallway made him want to hurry. It was as though something heavy hung in the air, a kind of tense emotional humidity.
Two doors down they stopped, and Slash raised his hand to rap on the door. Duff flinched a little at the loud noise and it was only with great effort that Slash kept himself from doing the same. The knock seemed to echo in the still air, reverberating down the hallways and alerting� something. Slash knew, deep in the pit of his stomach, that there was something out there, and his entire body throbbed with barely repressed panic.
There was no answer from Izzy�s room and Slash knocked again, louder this time. Duff gave a dry, coughing sob and pressed closer against him, seeking reassurance. Slash felt like the mouse who knows that the snake is near but has no place to run, and his hands trembled. From inside the room, there was a soft rustle and then a brief, loud scraping noise. Thank god.
The door handle rattled and the door swung open, slow and cautious. Had something happened to Izzy as well? God, he hoped not. If Izzy wasn�t all right, then nothing was all right. Slash stepped through the door cautiously, then leaped back with a howl, crashing into Duff�s chest. Duff�s arms snapped around his shoulders, pulling him close and yanking him backwards, obviously afraid for his safety.
As well he should be. Slash stared in shock at the door, heart pounding in his ears as Izzy�s dark head peered slowly around the edge of the frame. �You almost hit me with a fucking baseball bat!� Slash hissed. Normally he would have ranted and raved, but something about the situation demanded more caution than that. Behind him, Duff gave a puzzled little mewl.
�Jesus, you guys are all right,� Izzy breathed, motioning them forward. �Quick, get in here!� The look on his face galvanized the dormant terror in Slash, and he shot forward like a rocket, breaking Duff�s grip easily. Duff stumbled forward with a little cry and flung himself in the room as well, glancing back over his shoulder with wild eyes.
Slash wasn�t sure what he�d expected to see in Izzy�s room. Another body, perhaps, or evidence of a colossal joke. He certainly hadn�t expected the bizarre scene that he encountered as he turned to speak to Izzy. Axl, who�d been hiding behind the door, slammed it shut and locked it with fumbling fingers as Izzy planted his shoulder against the room�s huge king-sized bed and heaved it against the door. Duff, looking as dazed as Slash felt, joined him in the center of the room to watch with baffled amazement as Izzy and Axl darted around, piling furniture on top of the bed, seemingly to brace the door shut.
�Iz?� There was a moment of silence as Izzy and Axl lifted a chair onto the bed, then they both turned to face Slash and Duff. Izzy looked the same as always, thoughtful and poorly rested, though the dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual. Axl, on the other hand, had abandoned his usual cocky swagger and was hovering at Izzy�s shoulder, vivid green eyes round as half dollars.
�I was worried about you two,� Izzy murmured, padding across the room. He still clutched the bat in one long hand, and a little chill ran down Slash�s spine. Things were way more serious than he�d anticipated. �When you didn�t show up immediately, I thought�� Izzy shrugged and settled cross-legged on the floor in front of the television. It was the only thing in the room that wasn�t shoved against the door in some form or fashion.
�We just woke up about half an hour ago,� Slash explained, slowly sinking to the floor. Duff, in contrast, dropped like a ton of bricks, lanky limbs spreading out in a little puddle of bassist. �Someone was knocking on our door and��
�You answered it, didn�t you?� Axl said. Slash grimaced and nodded. Maybe Axl�s swagger was gone, but he was still an accusatory little prick. It was comforting to know that some things never changed.
�I did,� Duff whispered. Axl�s expression softened instantly. No one could be mad at Duff, no matter what he did. �He kept pounding and pounding so I went and opened the door and� and he tried to bite me.�
�Did he?� Izzy demanded sharply, and Axl immediately shifted to crouch behind Izzy, almost as though seeking shelter. Duff, puzzled and hurt, shook his head.
�No. I�� A little sob stuck in his throat and Slash wrapped an arm around his friend�s shoulders, pulling him close.
�He beat the guy�s skull in with my guitar,� he finished for Duff, unable to keep a touch of bitterness out of his voice. That guitar was completely fucked now. Why couldn�t Duff have grabbed a lamp or something? �Iz, what the fuck is going on here?�
Izzy stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as though trying to discern whether or not he was joking. Evidently satisfied that Slash was utterly clueless, he gestured towards the television. The sound was turned almost all the way down but the pictures were chilling enough. The very serious news anchor, the frozen scenes of horrific violence flashing behind him, the crawl along the bottom of the screen that warned people to stay indoors.
�Holy shit,� Slash breathed, leaning forward. Duff turned his face away as a particularly brutal picture flashed across the screen. �Is there some kind of riot going on?�
�You could call it that,� Axl drawled, stretching out his skinny legs and fixing his eyes on the television screen. �This morning they were talking about a really contagious strain of the flu. Now�� He shrugged, falling silent and gesturing to the television. It took Slash a moment to process the latest picture, then he recoiled in revulsion.
�Oh my fucking god! Is that dude eating that woman!?� Beside him, Duff made a gagging noise and looked away again, lanky body trembling. �What the fuck is going on here!?�
�No one knows,� Izzy answered, rubbing the back of his neck pensively. �They�re not actually speculating, just reporting the latest news and telling people to stay inside and barricade their doors.� There was a short pause, during which Izzy and Axl exchanged a meaningful look. �Axl got here around nine this morning, when they first started talking about the flu. We were gonna wake you guys up and blow town, but the phone lines are cut, and we couldn�t leave the room cause of the��
He trailed off, but the unsaid word hung in the air. They all stared at each other, grave and frightened, each knowing what the others were thinking and each unwilling to give voice to the fear that sat like a lead weight between them. Slash knew now what the familiar dread had been all about. Hadn�t he seen a thousand movies exactly like this? But that was stupid! Shit like this didn�t really happen. Did it?
�Where�s Steven?� Duff whispered, and Izzy shook his head slowly. Another thrill of terror shot through Slash and he leaned forward.
�Why are you shaking your head?� he demanded, eyes flashing. �Where the fuck is Steven?� Duff�s hands closed around his upper arms and he automatically struggled against them. The fear of what lurked outside Izzy�s room melted away, consumed fully by the frantic need to find Steven.
�We don�t know,� Izzy explained, holding up a hand to stop Axl from speaking. The singer shut his mouth sulkily and scowled at Slash. Clearly, he and Izzy had already had this fight and he had lost. �Axl says he went out last night with some broad, and since he�s not in his room we have to assume he�s still out with her. Hopefully, they�re both safe��
�Hopefully?,� Slash snarled. Duff had to yank him back down to keep him from lunging at Izzy. �You stupid son of a bitch, why aren�t you out looking for him!? He�s your fucking friend!� Izzy�s expression hardened, but he didn�t budge an inch.
�It�s not going to do Steven any fucking good if I go out there and get killed,� he answered. There was a flat, no-nonsense note in his voice that set Slash�s teeth on edge. He wanted to rip Izzy to shreds for being so fucking logical in the face of everything. �What exactly are you proposing here, Slash? Are we supposed to grab bats and guitars and traipse across the city hunting for Steven? Because it�s a pretty big fucking city and god only knows where he is. However, he knows exactly where we are. If Steven is still alive�� and Slash flinched visibly at that statement, ��he�ll come find us. So we stay put for now.�
�If he�s not here in a week, we�re going to look for him,� Slash countered immediately. He couldn�t argue with the logic of Izzy�s statement, but the very idea of sitting safe in a hotel room while one of his best friends was out in the city dealing with� whatever the fuck was out there� It made his stomach churn so violently that he thought he was going to throw up.
Izzy eyed him for a moment, dark eyes cold and dispassionate, then nodded curtly. �Make it a week and a half and you�ve got a deal.� Slash thrust out his hand immediately and the two of them shook. It was a better deal than he�d expected to get and, judging by Axl�s expression, better than he�d hoped for as well.
�Are we gonna live in here for that whole time?� Duff asked. His voice was soft and non-confrontational, and Slash was almost sorry he�d snarled at Izzy in the first place. Duff wasn�t psychologically equipped for shit like this; he was a hell of a bass player and more intelligent than people gave him credit for, but he was a nester. All of this conflict was destroying his safe little world, and Slash could hear him slipping back into a state of deep shock.
�Yeah,� Izzy answered grimly, glancing over his shoulder at Axl. They�d clearly already discussed that as well, which triggered a totally unreasonable surge of annoyance in Slash. To repress the scowl, he hugged Duff close and smoothed his hair. �So we�re gonna have to go down to the kitchens and bring food up.�
Axl, clearly annoyed at being left out of the conversation, interrupted. �Canned food and water mostly,� he said, leaning forward and plucking at the carpet. Izzy fell silent and fixed his eyes on Axl, so Slash shrugged and followed suit. �Maybe a hotplate, just in case we need it.� His eyes darted to Izzy, and Slash hid a smile. He wasn�t surprised that even Axl seemed to be deferring to Izzy. For all of Axl�s posturing, he was just as glad as the rest of them to let Izzy take control.
�Dried shit, too,� Izzy added quietly. �Oatmeal and crackers. Maybe some bread. Salt�� They all waited, staring at him expectantly. There was a brief flash of surprise on his face, then he shook himself and continued. �We�ll have to plan it pretty carefully, and at least one person will have to stay up here to let us all back in.� Slash, Duff, and Axl exchanged uneasy glances.
�When are we going to do that?� Duff asked softly. His long fingers twisted in his lap and Slash resisted the urge to reach over and squeeze his hands. Izzy shot Duff a sympathetic look.
